


Breathe

by jammeke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammeke/pseuds/jammeke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can count the number of times she's touched her lips to his on one hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following [prompt](http://kinky-merlin.livejournal.com/484.html?thread=2020#t2020):
> 
> Gwen/Leon CPR (I don't care if it wasn't invented yet)

Her hands are running over his body before she knows what she is doing, searching for his treasured pulse and the steady beat of the heart she knows so well. Something drips onto his face. A tear. She barely has time to realise it is her own; _not you, not you too_ the only thought on her mind. She cannot lose him, not like this, not here and certainly not now. Not after she's finally allowed herself to grow close to him again; to open her heart to the possibility of love once more. 

"Please," she whispers, fingers finding his neck. "Please." She does not know what she is asking for, or whom she is asking it of. "Please, please, please."

Something flutters beneath her fingertips. She gasps. Slowly exhales.

But something is wrong.

She is breathing but he is not. His chest is still. Too still.

She tangles her fingers into his wet hair and tilts his head to the side. Water trickles out of his mouth. She leans in; listens closely. Still no sound.

"Come on." She pushes at his chest, willing his lungs to work. "Please. Just. Breathe."

The man she loves so well for listening to her when she needs him to does not listen to her now. Perhaps he is too far gone already; gone to a place where he cannot hear her.

No.

She was not there when Arthur died; could do nothing to save her husband. But this time, she can make a difference; this time, she is not letting go. Determination renewed, she balls her hands into fists and hits his chest with all the force she can muster. If his lungs think they can give up now, they are wrong; she will not let them, will keep them alive by slamming into them all day if need be.

When beating him alone does not work, she leans in once more and shares her breath with him, blowing air into his mouth. If only she can stimulate his lungs; get them to start working on their own again somehow.

She can count the number of times she's touched her lips to his on one hand. 

He must live to help her make that number grow.

Pushing. Pulling. Breathing. Blowing. She is nothing but the air she gives him and the force she hits his chest with.

And then, just as she is almost out of breath herself, she feels it: the small rise of his chest. A moment later, his body jerks and he gasps, inhales so much air he almost chokes on it. She touches him gently, massages his shoulder as he gasps and gasps and gasps, a little less desperate each time.

She kisses his wet curls when his cheeks have regained their colour, squeezes his shoulder and says, "No more swimming lessons today."

He takes a deep breath and flops onto his back, eyes a bit unfocused still. "Or ever."

She laughs, then, fear and exhaustion mingling into the most joyful of sounds. "You were doing well until you got overconfident." She smacks him lightly in the arm. "Water is something to be feared. It brings life as well as death."

"Yes. Well." He shakes his head. "I want to die fighting; not trapped underwater."

She shudders and gives him a sharp look. "Don't."

"Gwen."

"Don't say such things."

"Gwen." His eyes are a bit more focused now, and full of sorrow. "I am a knight. You must consider the possibility that—"

"No."

"Arthur did not want to leave you either."

She is the one to gasp this time. He jerks as though he's been hit, looking down before offering his apologies.

She accepts them, then reaches out for him, wishing to reassure him that she is not angry at him; not for voicing her biggest concerns. Arthur did leave her. Just like her brother. Her father and mother. Lancelot. Merlin.

"I do not want to consider the possibility," she says quietly, tilting Leon's head towards her so she can look into his eyes as she says: "I feared for Arthur's life every day of his life—and I lost him in the end. My fear did not keep him alive. It did not protect him. I do not want—" She falters for a moment, then raises her chin and continues, "I do not want to be afraid, Leon. I do not want to spend my time with you in fear."

He wraps his soaked arms around her, pulling her close. She breathes in the scent of him, that comforting smell she knows so well, and allows it to soothe her and drive all thoughts of death and drowning from her mind.

"I love you," he says, finally, softly.

She repeats the words, and allows herself to mean them for the first time since Arthur's death.


End file.
